


Makeup for Beginners

by gotkindabored



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Compliant, During Canon, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ginny Weasley is amazing, Harry Potter Has Nightmares, Harry Potter Has PTSD, Makeup, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Harry Potter, Scars, Trauma, Vomiting, the moment harry knew he was in love with ginny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotkindabored/pseuds/gotkindabored
Summary: His scar is a constant reminder of death. It only makes sense that he would try to hide it.- Takes place in HBP
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Mentions of Seamus/Dean
Kudos: 18





	Makeup for Beginners

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: All original Harry Potter characters are owned and written by J.K. Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters or the story.

* * *

The haunting pleads from his mother echo around, caging Harry as he’s forced to relive the traumatic death of his parents again.

Moments ago, he heard the thud of his father's body before the door was blasted open, a blinding white dusting the walls.

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"_

Voldemort takes a step forward, agitated at her defiance. _“This is my last warning—"_

_"Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy... Not Harry! Not Harry! Please— I'll do anything..."_

A cold, shrilling laughter rings; familiar cat-like eyes flash blood red as unnaturally long fingers hold a wand, pointing directly at Lily’s chest. Within a split second, a flashing green light comes from the tip, bouncing off the walls and has Harry flinching.

Lily’s high-pitched screams pierce his ears before the sound of her limp body crashes to the floor.

Voldemort turns to Harry, smiling down maliciously. He draws closer to him, kicking his mother’s body to the side. His wand is now pointed at him, centred at his face. Harry begins to open his mouth, expecting a broken sob but all that escapes are the cries of a baby. Voldemort’s grin widens, his wand is drawn above his head.

 _“Avada Kedavra!”_ In a swift, zigzagging motion, a similar green bolt follows and—

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Harry’s body shoots up as he chokes on a strangled scream. His entire body shakes causing his bed to tremble, vibrating against the ground. The sticky feeling of cold and hot tears mixed as they dripped down his face. In his sleep, Harry managed to claw at his skin, red marks littered his knuckles and arms. Meanwhile, beads of sweat formed, causing his hair to stick against his forehead while the excess ran down the side of his neck. He frantically tries to blink the tears away. His first instinct is to grab his glasses and wand to arm himself as he directs it into the darkness, waiting for any intruders to attack.

He scans the room, a flurry of defensive spells dangle on the tip of his tongue.

The familiar red and gold sheets are pushed off of him while he sits upright in his four-poster bed; red velvet drapes hanging on each side. Close to the entrance of his dorm, posters of his and Ron’s favourite quidditch teams are plastered on. Various potted plants littered throughout the room, along with beautifully painted canvases. On his nightstand sat a few pictures of Ron, Hermione and his parents.

Looking to his right, Ron slept peacefully. He was snoring. Neville slept across from him while Dean and Seamus were sleeping together, cuddling.

Harry’s erratic heartbeats began to slow as he finally registers where he was.

 _See,_ an inner voice rings, _it was another dream. You’re fine. You’re safe._

Harry drops his head into his hands as pure relief floods his body before it turns into guilt. The mark on his forehead burned, like how it always does after a nightmare.

Wiping his tears furiously, he tries to collect himself but it does little to help. He fights the bile barreling its way from the back of his throat.

In a rush, he swings his legs over the edge of his bed and runs to the bathroom. He manages to cast a silencing charm before opening the lid to the toilet and throws up. For the most part, he gags on air as he breathes in and out slowly, trying to prevent hyperventilation.

Harry scoots backwards until hitting the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. The sensation helps to bring down the burning sensation.

He’s beyond exhausted. His nightmares have become daily now. Every time he closes his eyes and allows darkness to surround him, all Harry could do is panic as relives the deaths he caused or will eventually cause.

His parents, Sirius, Cedric…

Some of his other dreams also conceit mainly of Ron and Hermione being hunted down and slaughtered by death eaters along with dreams of Ginny being tortured.

At this point, he’s so emotionally drained and overwhelmed as his sense fades in and out of course. His ears rang as the sound of his mother’s screams replays like a broken record.

 _"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"_ He shakes and lightly hits his head in an attempt to clear his mind.

After a while, he picks himself up and rinses his mouth with cold water, splashing some onto his face.

A large mirror sits directly in front of him, the sight even causes Harry to stumble a bit. He looked worse than usual. His skin turned a ghostly pale, grey even. His eyes were sunken, dark circles underneath him as his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

And his scar… His ugly, vile, evil scar.

Harry found himself reaching up to touch it more and more. The raised skin was a constant reminder of death and he found himself picking at it in hopes that one day he would completely scrape it off.

Harry enters the main room again as he slides into bed. Tossing and turning for what seems like hours, he struggles to fall asleep. It’s the last thing he wants to do.

His eyes snap open again, growling in frustration. He grabs at his hair in the process, tugging down harshly. Throwing off his covers again, he slips his slippers on, walks up to his truck at the foot of his bed and pulls our invisibility cloak. Along with his glasses thrown on and wand in hand, Harry slips into the corridors.

He squints, momentarily blinded by the change in light. The moonlight was annoyingly bright as it coated the hallways.

Several secret passages rack through his mind before selecting one. Quietly, he walks towards it.

Behind the tapestry sat a window with a few blankets he forgot to remove from his last date with Ginny. He sinks, pressing his head on the window there as he brings his knees to his chest.

The twinkling stars shine magically in the dark as he tries to look for Sirius.

He swears it shines brighter than the rest.

The hours tick by and before Harry knows it, slivers of bright orange and gold appear on the skyline as he rushes back to his dorm. There he manages to sleep for about an hour before Ron shakes him awake, ready to start the new day.

* * *

For the most part, Harry is stiff and robotic for the rest of the day.

His scar is bothering him. It’s redder than usual and his hand keeps darting up, trying to cover it. It did not help that images of dead bodies, along with imaginary scenarios of his loved ones dying ate at him. Fortunately, he begins to relax as he and Ginny’s Hogsmeade date neared.

He hardly registered when he disarmed the wards on the girl's dormitory as he stalked up to Ginny’s door, knocking.

She opens the door, rambling about how she was almost done and how he’d arrived early.

Her bright smile helps to bring him back a bit.

The room was empty, saved for the two as Ginny presses her lips to him softly. “I’ll be back.”

Harry blushes at her, nodding in a daze.

But when she pulls back, Ginny’s eyes scan his face, her brows knitting together tightly. She could see the dark circles, the tiredness. Her shand instinctively reaches up to cradle the side of his face. A moment goes by as realization sinks in, “Harry, we can stay inside today. How about we stay here?’

He stiffens slightly and she can feel it. Harry shakes his head and poorly tries to convince her, “I’m fine, truly.”

By no means does Ginny believe him judging by the way her eyes burn into him. Thankfully, she doesn’t press. She knows not to treat him like a porcelain doll.

Instead, she simply nods. Her head is held high before she makes her way back to the bathroom. “I’m almost done.”

Ginny pulls on her favourite jumpers, one that Harry gifted to her on a whim before she grabs a comb to brush out any tangles. Bored, Harry makes his way over to her, simply watching her as a swooping feeling settles in the pit of his stomach.

Ginny never failed to captivate him. He’s completely and utterly enraptured by her.

Although his attention is ripped away once she picks up a small glass bottle, opening it. An odd, smooth liquid that matches Ginny’s skin tone seeps out as she takes a stick with fur on it; dipping it into the liquid. She brings it back to her face, spreading it over a small area.

“What is that?” he asks. His head is tilted to the side as he picks it up from the counter.

“Hmm? Oh, that.” Ginny mumbles out. “It’s called foundation. It’s makeup— covers up marks like pimples or scars.”

“Brilliant.”

She continues to swirl the fluff fur brush over a scar she got while playing quidditch a few months ago. In seconds, the liquid blends into her skin flawlessly, covering up the scar completely.

Harry was beyond amazed. That stuff covered up scars better than some spells Madam Pomfrey or Hermione taught him.

Ginny finishes, looking up at him, “You ready?”

His eyes were still glued to the glass bottle. “Yeah… Hey, do you mind if I could borrow this?”

The redhead looks at him strangely. Harry never took interest in makeup before.

“Sure— keep it if you want.” He tucks it into his jean pockets while the two make their way out of the common room and string hand in hand on the cobblestone path, making their way to Hogsmeade.

* * *

“Fuck!” he grumbles out. It was the next day and Harry woke up in another cold sweat. Luckily, this time he managed to sleep throughout the night with only thirty minutes left to spare before the shared dorm's alarm clock blasted.

This time, he heard his father mocking Voldemort and saw glimpses of Cedric’s body.

He felt like vomiting again.

Compared to yesterday night, his scar throbbed painfully. It was deeper in colour, resembling Voldemort’s eyes compared to the usual faint pink. A pounding headache started to pulsate in his temples as his fingers shot up, rubbing small circles into them.

Harry continued with his morning routine. He showered, brushed his teeth, washed his face, wore his school uniform and shoved his textbooks and parchment into his bag.

Out of the corner of his eye, the jeans he wore yesterday were thrown messily on a chair, piles of dirty clothes underneath it. He grabbed it, fiddling around with the pockets and pulled out the small bottle from yesterday.

His head swivelled in the direction of the bathroom. Staring at his reflection, he dropped his bags down. With clean fingers, he unscrewed the top of the bottle and tipped it like how Ginny did. Impatient, he shook the bottle a bit, tilting it more than necessary and accidentally spilled half of the liquid out and all over the sink.

He cursed under his breath before scooping a generous amount onto his fingertips. He rolled the foundation between his fingers, liking how silky it felt.

Unfortunately, Ginny’s skin tone was paler than his own. Nonetheless, Harry took his left hand and pushed back his messy hair. He brought his fingers to his scar, messily spreading the now warm liquid onto it. He failed to ask if he could borrow one of Ginny’s odd fluffy sticks to blend it out, as best as he could, he tapped the product on and blended it.

He treated it like finger paint and continued to smear it on his scar until satisfied with the coverage.

Once finished, he let his hair fall in his face again, making sure it still partially covered his scar. He cleaned up the messy and called out for Ron, using him to get ready. Without waiting, Harry made his way down the stairs and into the great hall for breakfast.

The smell of fried eggs filled the air as the clatter of plates and light chattered flowed. Hermione and Ginny were already seated at the Gryffindor table. Hermione’s eyes were glued to a large NEWT study textbook. Her eyes skimmed back and forth while Ginny babbled on about Care of Magical Creatures.

“Morning,” Harry says. His voice is still deep and raspy. He sets his bag down, taking a seat directly in front of the girls. He grabs a piece of toast, spreading butter lazily on it and manages to snag pumpkin juice. He’d been so caught up with his food that he hadn’t noticed Ginny and Hermione staring at him.

“Harry,” Hermione begins.

“Yeah?” He looks up at her.

Hermione’s eyes were filled with pity and worry, causing a spike of irritation to flare in him. He forced it down, “Um, Mione?

Ginny stans suddenly, picking up her bags. The rest of the students began to pile in as she looked around, seeming anxious.

They had noticed it immediately. Harry tried but failed to cover up his scar. Strands of hair were matted, sticking to the streaks of pale foundation which contrasted with his skin. You could still see smudges from his fingerprints left behind. He used too much product and it became clumpy, yet patchy. Despite the amount he used, the angry glow of his scar still managed to shine underneath.

“Come with me,” Ginny says.

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“My room.”

He tilts his head quizzically at her. “We have classes in a few?”

“We’re skipping first period,” she states.

Ginny speedwalks with Harry, avoiding most of the main pathways. Once there, she tells him to lay down on her bed. He does as told while fiddling around with his wand. Ginny disappears into the bathroom, shortly returning with an identical foundation bottle sitting on his counter. Additionally, she had a small bag and a few of those fluffy sticks.

She joins him on the bed, sitting crisscrossed. Her body is leaning over Harry’s head. She takes two blue hair clips and clamps back his black hair, pressing a wet cloth to his scar. She was removing the makeup.

Harry winced internally, a pang of shame hits him once his brain catches up and puts the piece back together. He tries to swat her hand away, defensively.

“Stop it.” She scolds gently, “I want you to listen, okay?’

He nods. She continues.

“When we’re trying to cover up, in this case, a scar that’s a different colour to our regular skin tone, we need to use something called a colour corrector.” Ginny pulls out three circular containers. One was orange, another green and the last one was purple. “This helps to cancel out any unwanted undertones and discolouration.”

She opens the minty green container. With a smaller fur stick, she coats it with green and paints it over his scar. The tickling sensation helps Harry to relax. His limbs loosen.

"Then," she continues, "We wait for it to dry. Sometimes I like to add powder on it before putting foundation on it— but we're going to skip that." She then picks up the foundation bottle, unscrewing the top as she casts a spell on it, making it several shades darker to match Harry. She picks the product up with a large brush, spreading it over his scar.

Ginny goes on to explain the other steps and gives makeup tips on how to cover other imperfections.

"There, finished. Would you like to see?"

Harry is silent. He doesn't know how to feel. Slowly, he shakes his head up and down before she passes him a hand-held mirror.

His eyes immediately dart to the scar; it's perfectly covered. Aside from the slightly raised skin, which would be hidden with his hair, onlookers wouldn't even know anything was there.

Ginny observes him quietly. "I'm not going to convince you that you don't need to cover it up," she gestures to his forehead, "If you want it covered, I'll do it and teach you how to do it yourself."

Harry never realized until now how attentive Ginny was to his needs.

At that moment, Harry's eyes glossed over. This time, he looks her in the eyes as an unfamiliar, overwhelming sensation washed over him. The scattering of her freckles and warm eyes causes an eruption of emotions. He’s never felt so loved before and he’s never seen someone look so beautiful inside and out. Pushing himself up, he brings her into a crushing embrace. But before that, Ginny leaned forward, pressing her lips to his scar. Harry’s heart swells and he closes his eyes.

_He’s completely and utterly enraptured by her._


End file.
